Damn’d Selfs

Pushing up against the
Barriers of absolution,
The jagged razor scrapes.

Barren slivers, chards
Of splintered mirrors
Expose the thousand selfs.

And the selfs escape
Into primordial anonymity:
Into galactic ooze.

The wrinkled balsam—
embraced by callous arms—
Liberates absolute power.

And finally the dam gives way
And the deluge of fractured selfs
Converge upon the deaf horizon

And flood the thirsty plain.

Don’t Go

Yes, I’m miserable.
Come home.
It hasn’t even been
A normal day’s
Length yet
And I miss you
Ahead of time.

Yes, I’m miserable.
Come home.
You haven’t even arrived
At away yet
And I’m frustratedly
Awaiting your return.

Yes, I’m miserable.
Come home.

Footprints

I’m walking in the footprints
I left the first time around
To escape the notice of the few
Who might have taken note.

The steps are deep and felt
And deeply felt.
They swallow my feet
Scrape my bared knees.

Acrimonious delight stands
Still and yet marches
On in its stillness.

My moccasins are worn
And for letting,
To a high bidder or low,
For a third trip around.